"I do not like to show the white feather, sir," said the Babu. "Not at all, Babu, we must have a trustworthy messenger: you are the man. Now get away as fast as you can." The Babu departed on his errand with the speed of gladness and relief. The ground sloped sharply outwards from the carts, and the rear of the position was formed by the nullah. The last two hackeris were being placed in position when the vanguard of the pursuers, with Diggle at their head, came to a point just out of range. The party was larger than Desmond had estimated it to be at his first hasty glance. There were some twenty men armed with matchlocks, and forty with swords and lathis. All were natives. His heart sank as he measured the odds against him. What was his dismay when he saw, half a mile off, another body following up. And these were white men! Was Diggle bringing the French of Chandernagore into the fray? Desmond posted his twelve armed peons behind the hackeris. He gave them strict orders to fire only at the word of command, and as they had undergone some discipline in Calcutta he hoped that, if only in self-preservation, they would maintain a certain steadiness. Behind them he placed twelve sturdy boatmen armed with half pikes, instructing them to take the place of the peons when they had fired. Bulger stood at the midpoint of the semicircle; his rough square face was a deep purple with a rim of black; his dhoti had become loosened, leaving his great shoulders and brawny chest bare; his turban was awry; his eyes, bloodshot with the heat, were as the eyes of Mars himself, burning with the fire of battle. The pursuers had halted. Diggle came forward, trotting his horse up to the base of the mound. The peons fingered their matchlocks and looked expectant; Bulger growled; but Desmond gazed serenely at his enemy. "Your disguise is excellent," said Diggle in his smoothest tones; "but I believe I speak to Mr. Desmond Burke." "Yes, Mr. Diggle," said Desmond, stepping forward. "I am glad to have overtaken you. Sure you have encamped early. I have a message from my friend the Faujdar of Hugli. By some mistake a consignment of merchandise has been illegally removed from Cossimbazar, and the Faujdar, understanding that the goods are contained in these carts, bids me ask you to deliver them up to his men, whom you see here with me." Desmond was anxious to gain time. He thought out his plan of action while Diggle was speaking. His impulsiveness prompted a flat defiance in few words; policy counselled a formality of utterance equal to Diggle’s. "These carts certainly contain merchandise, Mr. Diggle," he said. "It is the property of Mr. Edward Merriman, of Calcutta; I think you know him? It was removed from Cossimbazar; but not, I assure you, illegally. I have the dastaks authorizing its removal to Calcutta; they are signed by the Faujdar of Murshidabad. Has the Faujdar of--where did you say?" "Of Hugli."